


I Just Wanna Cele[BR]ate

by gimmefire



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Drunk Sex, Drunkenness, M/M, Tongue Piercings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-18
Updated: 2011-05-18
Packaged: 2017-12-03 15:13:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/699608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gimmefire/pseuds/gimmefire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the night of his thirtieth birthday, so Felipe is well on his way to being acceptably drunk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Just Wanna Cele[BR]ate

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bubblzey](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=bubblzey).



> Wholly inspired by the [photo](http://fuckyeahbrunosenna.tumblr.com/post/4941920728/happy-birthday-felipe-baby) of Felipe and Bruno together, beverages in hand, on Felipe's birthday, as tweeted by Bruno's ladyfriend Gaby. AU in that Felipe has a tongue stud. GO WITH IT. Title is from the Rare Earth song of the same name. Beta'd by [mackem](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mackem). Happy birthday, [](http://bubblzey.livejournal.com/profile)[bubblzey](http://bubblzey.livejournal.com/)!

"Bruninhooo!"

It's the night of his thirtieth birthday, so Felipe is well on his way to being acceptably drunk. He sets his drink down and embraces Bruno warmly, administering plenty of backslaps, despite only having seen him half an hour ago. Bruno himself is feeling quite tipsy by this point, and he grins lazily at the diminutive birthday boy.

"Why aren't you on the floor yet? You're so small, you only need three glasses, right?"

Felipe waves a finger at him in admonishment. "I'm pacing myself. You should be wrapped up in Karun right now, no? Is he too busy for you?"

"Ah, pacing yourself so you can see your screen well enough to text Rob every ten minutes, no?" Bruno fires back, miming Felipe tapping away incessantly on his Blackberry. Felipe scowls at him in mock indignation.

"I don't do that!"

"Every five minutes, then." Bruno tugs on the shoulder of Felipe's lilac shirt. "I like this, is it Raffa's? It's cute that you share clothes."

Felipe scowls again, reaching up to slap the back of Bruno's head, or pull his hair, or something; Bruno leans away and deflects the hand before it can do anything.

Fortunately, before they can be thrown out of the club for causing trouble, Gaby returns with a large glass of wine in each hand and a broad smile. She greets Felipe with a careful one-armed hug, doing her best not to spill wine on either of them, before handing one glass to Bruno.

"Photo time," she insists, waving them closer together and fishing in her bag. "I have to get a photo of you now, in case you look too bad for the camera later!"

Felipe slides in close, fitting perfectly under Bruno's arm. Gaby bites her bottom lip as she tries to hold her phone steady with her voluminous glass in hand. Bruno rests his cheek against Felipe's head. He's almost sure he hears Felipe giggle; he's definitely sure that Felipe's hand has settled very low on his back. _Very_ low. Not so much on his back, as--

"Okay, smile!"

Bruno grins and the flash goes off. Felipe's pulling a face. Out of the corner of his eye Bruno catches an unusual dull gleam from Felipe's mouth.

Bruno has wondered in the past if Felipe had been drunk when he'd decided that getting his tongue pierced was a good idea.

Gaby fiddles with her phone, giggling at the picture, before slipping it into her bag and raising her glass to the two of them. "I'm going to leave you two to each other," she smiles, looking them up and down. "I have girlfriends to see, and you have to cuddle some more."

Bruno thinks of protesting before he realises that Felipe is still latched onto him, and that his arm is still very comfortably draped across Felipe's shoulders. She leaves them a fleeting kiss each, one on Bruno's lips and one on Felipe's cheek, and waves as she departs.

The boys talk at length, with plenty of gesturing, rhetoric and hyperbole, drinks sloshing in their glasses. Felipe grins at Bruno, polishing off his drink fairly quickly, his eyes a little hazier once he sets the empty glass down. The occasional glint from his tongue stud when he speaks is permanently distracting, even moreso when he habitually presses his tongue forward and traps the ball between his teeth while listening to Bruno.

Bruno wonders, not for the first time, what it feels like. The sentence he's halfway through ends vaguely, petering out with a shrug and a "you know?". Subtlety may have deserted him by this point in the evening, because Felipe grins at him slyly.

"You keep looking at my mouth," he says. "Do you like it?"

Bruno snorts. "Your mouth?"

Felipe pokes out his tongue; Bruno's not sure whether it's by way of explanation or plain impudence.

"It's interesting," Bruno claims, intentionally ambiguous. He expects Felipe to pursue the point, but he doesn't. He just smiles like he already knows what Bruno meant. It seems subtlety really has deserted him.

Felipe shifts closer to Bruno, body angled towards him. The area of the club they're standing in is busy, but they receive no attention. It's fortunate, because as Felipe looks away, off across the club, his hand strays to rest on Bruno's leg.

Bruno quirks an eyebrow at the touch, but he doesn't give any greater acknowledgement than that. He can't keep the smirk from tugging at his lips when Felipe's hand creeps further up his leg, and he has to disguise a laughed curse in his glass when that hand slips around to his inner thigh and squeezes lightly. He dips his head close to Felipe's and says in a low voice, "This isn't the best place for this."

Felipe still doesn't look Bruno's way, but his eyes light up.

 

They beat a stealthy retreat to the cloakroom, passing the attendant a clutch of Euros on the way. In truth, the retreat may not have been stealthy at all, but Bruno is following Felipe and he really isn't paying attention to anyone else.

Bruno runs his hand along the rack of coats by the door, chuckling when he knocks one from its hanger in the process and almost falling headfirst into the rack when he bends to pick it up. He only abandons the task of putting it back when Felipe tugs at his sleeve and pulls him further into the room.

There's a section of wall where the coats hang on hooks; Bruno leans against them and grins as he shifts his shoulders, snuggling deeper into the makeshift cushions.

"You're not there to sleep," Felipe says archly, sidling up to him. He stands on his tiptoes, wobbles comically, and drops back down again. "Need something to stand on," he mumbles, then turns to search the cloakroom for something adequate.

"I'm really not so tall," Bruno murmurs to himself in bemusement. Then, louder, "Felipe, it's fine, I can...bend down." Felipe flings a insult at him, but as he's turned away and digging around in coats, Bruno can't make out what it is exactly. He laughs when Felipe returns from his quest empty-handed. "Is this how you do it with Rob?"

"Stop talking."

Bruno doesn't get the option to do anything but, because Felipe draws Bruno down to him and initiates a messy but earnest kiss. He's smaller and slighter than Karun; the physical comparisons shimmer through Bruno's fuzzy mind as his hands roam across cool creases in shirt fabric and the contours of warm skin beneath. Any train of thought he has dissipates as Felipe presses against him, the swipe of his tongue a wholly different sensation to any he's felt before. He finds himself returning the kiss keenly, fascinated by the feel of the metal barbell against his tongue.

"You know, I have one of these that vibrates," Felipe murmurs between kisses, indicating to his mouth, the tongue stud. It sounds distinctly like he's suggesting they try it out. "Raffa really likes it..."

"I guess Rob doesn't mind it so much either."

Felipe positively beams. "He gave it to me," he says proudly, before indulging in another deep kiss.

It's not long before Felipe makes a noise like he's just remembered something and pulls away, digging in his pocket, much to Bruno's amused exasperation. "C'mon, now you're teasing me!" Felipe waves him off, inspecting the piece of paper he's wrestled from the confines of his jeans - his cloakroom ticket. He unsteadily turns on the spot, scanning the room until he sees his jacket. He visits it momentarily and returns with a small tube in hand. Bruno's eyebrows raise in recognition.

"Were you planning on having sex here tonight?" he says with a laugh.

Felipe shrugs. There's a faint blush in his cheeks. "I knew you were going to be here."

He squeezes out a blob, murmuring 'oops' when he realises it's about twice as much as is necessary. Half-heartedly he tries to push some of it back in the tube, quickly giving up. Bruno meanwhile, concentrates on unbuckling his belt, because he finds it does require concentration. He drops his pants to his knees to avoid potential lube stains as best he can. Any further thought for post-coital appearance is gone once Felipe's mouth is clumsily pressed to his again and his hand is slicking his half-hard cock.

The only things that affect his focus on the small man against him are the coathooks that occasionally dig into his back, and even that minor discomfort fades out of his consciousness when Felipe crawls down his body to lick the head of his cock. Felipe's open mouth is curved up into a smile as he flexes his tongue, running the stud in circles around the tip and back and forth across the slit. Dimly, before he groans and becomes incapable of conscious thought for a while, Bruno notices that the gleam from that stud is brighter with the smear of lube and precum.

It's not the most comfortable sex Bruno has ever had - he leans against the wall as he folds his larger frame over Felipe's back and fucks him, and he can't seem to find a spot where a zip or a button or a stud isn't digging into his palm. Felipe pushes back against him, fucking himself onto Bruno's cock. His pants are only hitched down to his thighs, Felipe not appearing to care about potential stains.

Felipe is loud, louder than Bruno expected, and though they can hear the music pounding through the wall, Bruno - between gasps and low moans of his own - hisses at Felipe to be quieter. Felipe either doesn't hear him or simply ignores him, shifting his supporting hands further down the coat-swathed wall, arching and crying out even louder at the new angle of Bruno's thrusts. Bruno remedies the noise problem not by clamping a hand over Felipe's mouth as he's tempted to do, but by pulling the smaller man back up and shifting them both closer to the wall until Felipe's upper body is arched against the bed of coats, his hands curling into their fabric as Bruno rolls his hips, his movements slower and more deliberate than before. Felipe's moans become low, muffled against coats. He squirms in Bruno's hands.

A thought plays persistently on Bruno's mind, distracting him even whilst his body is busy. It tickles away until he can no longer keep it in; he pants into Felipe's hair, and when Felipe nuzzles up against his mouth, he murmurs with a lazy smirk, "So do you really stand on a little box when Rob fucks you like this, or do you make him crouch down?"

Felipe whines softly, the sound sputtering out in the midst of a laugh. "Sh-shut up," is his eventual eloquent retort as he pushes back against Bruno, hard enough to make him stumble, and blindly reaches up and back, fumbling to cover Bruno's mouth. Bruno defends himself by kissing the combative hand, pushing it away and encouraging Felipe's head around for another deep kiss.

Bruno grasps Felipe's hips, pressing him into the coats, pinning him there. Felipe breaks away from the kiss and lets out a long moan, the sound jarred by each of Bruno's thrusts. When Bruno shifts them forwards just a little more, the friction of the coat fabric against Felipe's cock is enough to send him over the edge. Bruno forgets about telling him to be quiet.

When they are both spent and unsteady, the coats serve as a vertical bed, a mattress to sag against, regaining their breath. Bruno grins stupidly to himself, arms loose around Felipe's waist as they spoon standing up. He craves another drink, another kiss.

Felipe, eyes closed in quiet bliss, reaches for Bruno behind him. "Bruninho," he purrs, his smile one of almost smug satisfaction.

When Bruno feels Felipe begin to sink lower in his arms, knees slowly giving out, he murmurs that they can't sleep like that.

"How do you know?" Felipe mumbles, prising his eyes open. "Have you tried it?"

"You would fall down."

" _I_ haven't tried it." Felipe pauses. "Maybe I'll sleep on the floor here."

Amused at the thought of Felipe curling up on the floor and dozing off, Bruno points out the potentially incriminating flaw in the idea. "Shouldn't you pull your pants up first?"

Felipe deliberates, then grunts in assent. He pushes himself upright and wrestles his trousers back up, his eyes settling on the coats in front of him. The coats he was arched against a few minutes before. "Ah." He looks at Bruno, his expression both sheepish and amused. "Do you have a tissue or a napkin?"

Bruno doesn't.

A few moments of quietly frantic searching later and they find a pathetic half-square of napkin, crumpled and complete with lipstick print, on the floor. Felipe does his best to clean his mess up, not helped at all by Bruno's infectious chuckling, then disguises any remaining evidence by tucking the unfortunate person's coat under another. He then rather undoes his good deed, if one can call it that, by stuffing the now damp napkin in someone else's jacket pocket.

Once suitably presentable - Bruno doesn't check to see if Felipe successfully avoided those lube stains - it's agreed that sleeping in the cloakroom is a poor plan, not least because the night is still relatively young and there's more celebrating to be done.

"Wait," Felipe says as Bruno reaches for the door handle. Bruno turns to find Felipe reaching for him again, pawing at him rather sweetly until he bends to meet his mouth. Their kiss this time is no different, certainly no more neat than the ones preceding it, but without the eventual goal of sex, it seems...more tender, perhaps? Bruno is aware that he could start thinking too deeply about this, a drunken liaison in a Monegasque cloakroom. Felipe kisses him slowly and grins shyly when he pulls away. "Maybe we do this again?"

Bruno finds his arm settling across Felipe's shoulders again. It's a position he feels very contented in.

"Okay. My birthday, my party," Bruno proposes. "You come and find me. We find a quiet space like this. You show me what that vibrating tongue stud can do. Does that sound okay?"

For the second time that night, Felipe's eyes light up.


End file.
